


That blinking Cupid gossips

by Lacerta26



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Betting, Coming Out, Explicit Sexual Content, Gossip, Humour, M/M, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21903472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacerta26/pseuds/Lacerta26
Summary: Eggsy never really considered what working for Kingsman would be like when the world wasn’t ending. What it's like is hanging about in an isolated manor full of professional busybodies, who either have nothing but time on their hands or are busy saving the world with very little in between. Which means gossip about Harry and more specifically who he might be dating. The odds on Eggsy don't look good.Harry and Eggsy keep their colleagues guessing and have a little fun in the process.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 17
Kudos: 288





	That blinking Cupid gossips

**Author's Note:**

> This has the smallest hint of Christmas cheer to make it relevant to the season otherwise I was mostly amused by the idea of what everyone gets up to at Kingsman when they aren't saving the world. 
> 
> Thanks for reading - happy holidays! 
> 
> Title from All's Well That Ends Well.

Eggsy never really considered what working for Kingsman would be like when the world wasn’t ending. He hadn’t had time; the world was too busy ending. They got back on the plane from Valentine’s bunker and Merlin took them to pick up Roxy and then to pick up Harry, who wasn’t dead, it turned out, but lying in a Kentucky hospital with a head wound (nasty business, lots of blood, visual impairment in one eye, not fatal) and then on to home. 

On the flight back Harry had looked at Eggsy over the rim of his martini glass, smiled in that way that still makes Eggsy’s insides turn to jelly and said, ‘bloody well done. Although, normally one has a couple of missions under ones belt before one starts shagging royalty. I suppose under the circumstances you deserved it.’ 

Maybe it was the altitude or the adrenaline or the three martinis they’d already drunk or Harry stood there, alive and almost whole, in a tracksuit of all incongruous things because Eggsy had just beamed at him and said, ‘oh yeah? And how many missions before I can start shagging the boss?’, like he’d lost his fucking mind. 

But Harry hadn’t laughed at him, looked affronted or got angry. He’d given him a quick, hot little smile and said, ‘the jury’s still out on that one’. 

They’d had to spend the entire journey across the Atlantic sharing covert looks, all heavy eye contact and barely restrained heat until Roxy had stood up in exasperation to say, ‘I’m going to speak to Merlin about... _something_...for 45 minutes,’ and, sparing a severe glance at Harry, ‘don’t burst any stitches,’ marched off to the cockpit.

A whole hour (cheers Rox) of glorious mutual fumbling and soft, gentle kisses, Harry had been shot in the head after all, had followed before Merlin had coughed pointedly over the PA system to tell them they were about to begin their descent and they better make themselves decent.

Back in London, Harry had taken him home, taken him to bed and taken him to breakfast the next morning. Any guilt Eggsy had felt over Tilde was quickly assuaged by Harry, ‘well, you did think I was dead, darling,’ and a text from Tilde, ‘wonderful to hear he’s not dead. Is he as good in bed as you had hoped?’, followed by a number of eggplant emojis and that had been that.

*

Harry became Arthur, Eggsy became Galahad, which still makes him grin like an idiot when he thinks about it, and all there was left to do was get back to work. Which is, well. Not exactly as Eggsy was expecting if he’s honest. 

Before he joined the marines he’d worked at McDonald’s for a year, before that he’d had a paper round at primary school. Otherwise he’s been what you might call terminally unemployed, the less said about the work he did for Dean the better. He’s certainly never worked in an office and he’s pretty sure Kingsman generates more admin than every office in London. 

When Eggsy and Roxy report to the manor for their first day as proper, official Kingsman agents Merlin shows them into an empty room full of computers, assigns them a desk and an email address apiece and leaves them to ‘get acquainted with the more tedious aspects of spycraft.’ Which apparently mostly involves writing reports, conducting research or surveillance from the comfort of the manor and generally dossing about waiting for something terrible to happen somewhere in the world.

Then there’s the staff. An operation as big as Kingsman requires a veritable army to keep it running and to keep the important work out of the slovenly hands of the agents, as Merlin likes to put it. There are cleaning staff, gardeners, caterers in the canteen, accountants, researchers, tech experts, medical staff, mechanics, even an archivist, for fuck’s sake, who looks after the Kingsman art collection. All corralled and organised, for want of a better title, by an honest-to-god office manager, code name Guinevere, who keeps them in stationary and buys M&S cakes whenever it’s someone’s birthday. Very few people actually think Arthur runs Kingsman. Most people believe it to be Merlin. Those in the know are certain of one thing if nothing else; Kingsman is run by Guinevere.

What all this amounts to is an isolated manor full of professional busybodies, who either have nothing but time on their hands or are busy saving the world with very little in between. The careening rush of adrenaline to the inevitable crash and boredom of post-mission fatigue means all the staff, who feel the ripples of danger whenever an agent goes out on a mission, have to fill their free time with something. Which means gossip. 

For Eggsy specifically it means lots of staff who weren’t around during his training or weren’t paying attention. People who know him but not Harry or vice versa, more likely. Harry has been at Kingsman forever and is just the sort of person to have taken the time to learn everyone’s name and some details about them, their job, their family but as the most senior agent, even before he took on Arthur, he has the tendency to be busy and distant so a lot of the staff know him only by sight. 

Eggsy on the other hand has made a point to get to know as many of the support staff as possible and not just to earn him an extra helping of crumble in the canteen. These are the jobs his mum and his gran always had; hard work with little thanks given. Despite the suits and the private jets and the Cambridge educated boyfriend Eggsy feels more far comfortable drinking builders tea in one of the staff rooms than scotch in the wood panelled boardroom. 

He’s making a coffee in the accounting department’s tea room when Guinevere, Karen if you’re lucky, and Sarah, one of the housekeeping staff come in gossiping like it’s going out of fashion and they don’t work for an international intelligence agency. He tries not to pay any attention, until, ‘and did you see the new Arthur yesterday? Whistling he was. Don’t think I've ever seen him so cheerful.’

‘Oh, Harry? And even after losing his eye and everything. What do you reckon’s brought that on?’

‘As if you can’t guess...he must be seeing someone!’

Eggsy does his best to be inconspicuous because, spy, but a prickly heat is already rising on the back of his neck. Most people know he was Harry’s candidate so it’s only a matter of time before they put two and two together or at the very least ask him if he knows who Harry’s seeing.

‘Who do you think it is? Someone he met in America?’

‘He was too busy being shot in America, poor soul. No, it must be some he already knew from home.’ 

‘Whoever she is she’s bound to be lovely. A gentleman like Arthur would only attract a proper sort of lady.’

‘He’s never mentioned seeing anyone before, not that I’ve heard, so there must be something wrong with him,’ says Karen reprovingly.

‘And why would you have heard?’ arms crossed, eyebrow raised at Karen's supercilious tone.

‘I hear everything that goes on around here. Just last week Terry in the gardens was telling me that David in accounts is…’

And as the conversation moves on Eggsy feels far more able to slip away unnoticed, sauntering out of the room with his now cold coffee, as if he hasn’t just been eavesdropping. It’s not as if he especially wants to start shouting about him and Harry from the rooftops, just yet, it’s still all so new and fragile; a giddy sort of private happiness he wants to guard jealously for a bit longer, but it rankles that everyone’s assumptions about who might have made Harry so happy are this far from the truth.

*

The next time he catches someone talking about Harry’s love life it’s Kay and Bors at the gym and they, at least, are a bit closer to the mark. Eggsy’s stretching on the mats when they march in, chatting loudly and unaware that there might be anyone in the vicinity.

‘So how’d the mission in Berlin go? Any hitches?’ says Kay as they climb on to two exercise bikes.

‘Piece of piss. In and out, no mucking about,’ say Bors, puffing up his chest self importantly. In Eggsy’s experience he’s always been rather full of himself with very little to actually back it up. He’s all brute force and asking questions later or rather deferring to other people to ask the questions. 

‘Arthur had a go of course. Something about “inappropriate use of incendiary devices.” I mean, I got the job done didn’t I?’

Kay laughs and cuffs Bors on the shoulder, ‘well you do have a bit of a tendency to go overboard with the firepower.’

‘Whatever. You’d think Harry’d chill out now he’s behind a desk all day with a new bird to keep his dick warm.’

‘What? Harry’s seeing someone?’

‘Why? You jealous?’

‘Please, Mark would have my knackers if I so much as looked in someone else’s direction. Did he tell you he’s seeing someone?’

‘Nah. Karen has a theory he’s finally picked up some posh bit of skirt with a title and committed to the lifestyle. _I_ reckon he’s found someone younger, _daddy issues,_ that sort of thing.’

‘There’d have to be something wrong with her to want to shack up with one of us lot. Talk about baggage’

‘Speak for yourself. I do very well, thank you.’

‘You haven’t had a serious relationship in six years.’

‘Exactly and I couldn’t be happier about it. Oi, Galahad!,’ shouts Bors across the gym and Eggsy starts despite himself. He can’t pretend he hasn’t heard, Bors’ voice echoes like a foghorn at the best of times and they haven’t exactly been keeping their volume down. He gets up from the mat and saunters over, trying not to look too invested in the topic at hand.

‘Alright Bors, Kay?’

‘You were Harry’s nominee weren’t you? Who do you reckon he’s shagging? It isn’t little Lancelot is it because…’ 

Kay looks distinctly nauseous at this turn to the conversation but he doesn’t have time to so much as open his mouth before Eggsy’s squaring up to Bors, ‘you talk about Lancelot like that one more time and I swear to god Bors I’ll be shoving an _incendiary device_ up your arse.’ 

There was a time, not so long ago, that Eggsy would have just punched him in the face and dealt with the consequences but Kingsman’s taught him a lot in a few short months and Bors is already looking conciliatory, hands up, ‘alright kid, calm down, it’s just a joke.’ 

Eggsy would really love to punch him.

*

The following month he’s on a mission in South America trying not to get shot at by a gang of mercenaries when Percival, who’s meant to be covering their retreat, asks Merlin over comms, ‘do you know who Harry’s dating Merlin? We’ve got a pool going and i’m sure Roxanne knows who it is but I can’t get it out of her.’

‘Call yourself a spy, Percy?’ says Merlin, chuckling, far too calm given he’s trying to work out a route for them to get out without being shot to pieces, ‘if you haven’t worked it out by now I think you’ll just have to wait until Arthur decides to tell you, should that time ever come.’

Later, when they’ve made it to the safe house, with a briefcase full of dangerous research into nuclear weaponry, Percival says, ‘you must know who it is, Galahad. Come on I've got 500 pounds riding on this, we can split it?’ and Eggsy has never been more grateful that they’re hiding in the dark. 

*

He marches into Harry’s office when he gets back from Argentina with a split lip and a new appreciation for the days when all he has to do is paperwork. Harry smiles at him when he enters but Eggsy can see the tension leave his shoulders, relief that Eggsy has made it home in one piece. He doesn’t even have a go at Eggsy for not knocking so the danger had been real; a mission is so often surreal until it’s over and the reality of how close you came to not surviving hits you.

‘Galahad, what can I do for you?’

Eggsy comes round the desk to slide onto the arm of Harry’s chair, as obvious as he can get that he’s not here to talk about work. They try to keep things seperate, not bring Kingsman home with them, not bring home to the office but it’s not always easy. Harry settles his hands at Eggsy’s hips, and says, softer, ‘Eggsy. Welcome home.’

Eggsy kisses him gently, ‘Harry, you know people are talking about us?’

‘Oh?,’ Harry raises his eyebrows but doesn’t seem surprised, ‘would you rather they didn’t?’

‘Well, they’re talking about you really. Reckon you’ve got yourself a fit bird with a title, finally.’

‘I see. And you want to disabuse them of the notion that my partner of choice could be ah...a fit bird with a title?’

‘There’s a pool going. Percival’s got 200 quid on it being someone outside Kingsman.’

‘Right,’ Harry smirks, ‘and exactly how have you employed your unfair advantage to win us the jackpot?’

 _‘Harry!_ Be serious.’

Harry makes a face that suggests he intends to do no such thing but he sobers under Eggsy’s quelling gaze. 

‘You’re not out to anyone at work?’ Eggsy says, delicately. He forgets so often what the generational gap means to them. It might have been better to keep his preferences on the down low on his estate and certainly around Dean and his cronies but mostly the fact he knows that both posh girls _and_ boys like a bit of rough is not something he feels he has to hide. 

‘I am a spy, darling. I’ve certainly never tried to conceal it. Merlin knows, as does Roxanne,’ he grins, ‘and you, of course.’

Eggsy sighs in exasperation and rolls his eyes. He runs his hands down Harry’s chest, tucking his fingers beneath the lapels of Harry’s suit jacket.

‘No one can see past this armour.’

Harry smiles, something between sad and fond, ‘I've been single a long time. I’ve become used to not discussing that aspect of my life because I would not have had anything to say.’

‘Now you have me.’

‘Yes, now I have you.’ 

*

Later in bed Eggsy attempts to get to the end of a chapter in his novel before giving in to the pointed looks Harry keeps throwing his way. Harry’s hands are gentle in his hair and Eggsy finally puts down his book as Harry says, ‘so, would you like to tell people about us?’

Eggsy grins up at him, ‘I’m not saying you should send out a memo.’

‘Merlin _has_ been on at me to speak to HR.’

‘So we can tell people? The people we like at least?’

‘I think we can have a bit more fun than that.’

‘Oh yeah? Like what?’ 

‘Well, if everyone insists on being so woefully incorrect we could give them a few more hints to see if they get the message? Considering they call themselves spies it shouldn’t be _too_ hard for them to work it out with the right clues.’

Eggsy raises an eyebrow, ‘you gonna wear a pride flag suit to the office next week?’ 

Harry doesn’t own a pride flag suit but he makes a face like he’s seriously considering having Christopher make him one; despite his generally traditional appearance there is a vein of the truly camp running through Harry like a stick of rock; it’s there in the butterflies and the stuffed dog, his love of Elton John and his behaviour for the entirety of the 80s (Eggsy’s seen the pictures). Eggsy gets a sudden vision of Harry covered in glitter grinning through the endless same day hangover that is London Pride and vows to make it happen.

*

Come Monday Harry hasn’t conjured a rainbow suit from the ether but he is wearing a muted rainbow tie and a pride flag has made it into the pot of pencils on his desk. 

‘Are you channelling Captain Holt?’ says Eggsy, hip cocked against the desk.

Harry makes a quizzical face as if he didn’t binge watch 5 seasons with Eggsy one rare weekend they both had free and gives him a once over, ‘I see you’ve decided not to make any effort,’ stroking down the silk of his own tie pointedly in a way that makes Eggsy’s mouth go dry. 

Eggsy is just wearing his favourite suit, the one Harry had made for him before he was officially a Kingsman. Roxy teases him when he wears it, says he can either try to be Harry or be _with_ Harry not both. 

‘I just thought it might be _interesting_ if we arrived at the meeting together.’

They never join the agents meetings together, Harry likes to make an entrance for one thing and up until now they have been unconsciously maintaining a distance between them in a professional setting. 

‘That is an interesting thought,’ says Harry, coming around the desk to kiss Eggsy deeply, hands firm on his jaw, so there’s no way he doesn’t look seriously flustered by the time Harry is steering him into the boardroom with a hand at the small of his back. 

Harry sees him right to his chair, which under any other circumstances they’d be having words about, but It doesn’t even have the desired effect because Percival and Bors barely even look up from where they’re bent over Percival’s phone until Roxy elbows her uncle in the side making him start suddenly and shove his mobile unceremoniously away. 

‘Arthur, sorry didn’t see you there, old chap,’ says Bors as if he isn’t sorry in the slightest, throwing a wink in Eggsy’s direction like they’re all co conspirators in this game. Eggsy keeps his face studiously neutral and shifts his chair slightly closer to the head of the table. 

Merlin, stood at the fireplace raises his eyebrows, and attempts to call the meeting to order. 

Eggsy has a horrible habit of tuning out anything that goes on in meetings that doesn’t directly concern him. Merlin’s pulled him up on it more times than he can count and he does have a point; agents can get pulled into any mission at short notice and it helps if they’re at least passingly familiar with the details. Aside from the truly covert stuff there’s a reason they’re all issued with briefing documents together but Eggsy finds he works better if he can focus his energy on what’s in front of him rather than trying to hold on to the thread of several things at once.

Today, though, he has Arthur sanctioned leeway to daydream to his heart’s content so when Merlin says, ‘Galahad!’ sharply and everyone turns to gaze in his direction he’s caught staring longingly at Harry’s profile. 

He flushes gently and shifts in his chair, ‘yeah, Merlin, sorry, what?’

Watching Merlin try to be stern while he’s desperately trying to hold in laughter is one of Eggsy’s favourite games. 

*

Eggsy’s in the pub a few days later with Roxy, Percival and Merlin, sans Bors thank god, as Bedivere, although he’s almost as bad, swaggers over from the bar and leans in conspiratorially to say, ‘I’ve got new intel on Arthur.’

‘Really?’ says Merlin blandly, ‘he’ll be here in a minute you can ask him if him it’s accurate.’

Bedivere looks over his shoulder sharply as if he half expects Harry to be suddenly standing there, which isn’t as unlikely as you might think, but finding the bar clear he turns back and leans in, ‘it might change the pool. Gives us a hint at least.’ 

‘Spit it out if you’re going to,’ says Percival, glancing round with boyish glee only to find Merlin leaning back smugly, Roxy engrossed in her phone and Eggsy looking on indifferently, or so he hopes. 

Bedivere draws himself up, ‘Kay was coming back to London on the bullet train with Arthur last week, saw him on his phone,’ he looks round at his audience, gauging their interest before continuing, ‘he was texting someone, they were sending him little hearts and so on…’

‘That’s hardly _useful_ information,’ Merlin scoffs, ‘you already know he’s seeing someone,’ 

‘Yes, but Kay got a look at the contact information,’ Bedivere grins.

Merlin’s eyes dart to Eggsy, totally fucking unsubtle, does he really think they’d be so obvious with their little game?

‘And!’ says Percival with increasing impatience, rolling his hand in Bedivere’s direction to get him to continue. 

‘She’s saved in his phone as “E”’ says Bedivere triumphantly, smacking the table, clearly as yet incapable of connecting the dots, and Merlin puts his head in his hands.

‘This is what’s got you so excited? A fucking initial? Christ I should fire the lot of you,’ he says looking up from his cupped hands rather desperately as Roxy helpfully puts in, ‘she?’

Bedivere, the twat, ignores Roxy in favour of saying, ‘no fear. Only Arthur can fire us.’

‘And why would I have reason to do that?’ says Harry mildly, making Percival and Bedivere start in their seats, appearing suddenly behind them as if out of thin air - only Eggsy had watched his progress from door to their table.

‘Hello, Arthur, didn’t see you there. Are you joining us?’ says Bedivere barrelling full speed over his faux pas as only the very posh seem able to do.

‘Not this evening thank you, Bedivere. I’m just here to collect Galahad for dinner. Eggsy?’ they make eye contact over everyone’s heads and Eggsy cannot help the grin that spreads across his face, at the attention, at Harry looking at him warmly and singling him out, elevating. 

No one fucking notices.

Not even when he takes Harry’s arm on the way past the bar. He looks back to see Roxy shaking her head at them and grinning but Bedivere and Percival are already deep in conversation probably thinking up every name beginning with E they’ve ever heard. 

*

‘Honeytrap, gentleman,’ says Merlin, slapping a file down on the boardroom table and Bors actually sits up straighter, the pervert, his hand starting towards it seemingly of its own accord. Eggsy, Kay, Bors and Percival are the only agents not currently attached to active missions and have been duly summoned to hash out the details of this one together.

‘I’m afraid Galahad and Kay get first refusal on this one, Bors,’ says Harry with a sympathetic little smile in Eggsy’s direction. 

Eggsy knows what that means, honeytraps are rare, as most of their marks are heterosexual men and seduction is hardly ever the shortest route through a mission, although Bors has attempted to make it his go to whenever there’s a beautiful woman involved. If Harry is suggesting either Eggsy or Kay deal with this one then their mark is in to men - and probably dangerous. Kay shoots Bors a look and picks up the file to flick through it, ‘what’s his type?’ 

‘Young, fit, blonde,’ says Harry with a grimace and Kay hands the file over to Eggsy with a roll of his eyes - Kay is in his early 40s, tall, dark, the second best silver fox at Kingsman and if he wasn’t married he’d be the top of Eggsy’s list of inappropriate workplace crushes, right after Harry of course. 

Just as Eggsy gets two sentences into the report on the bastard Bors makes a considering noise and from over the top of the file Eggsy can see him looking between Kay and Eggsy and then back up to Harry before blurting, ‘Arthur’s gay!’

Percival looks up sharply, ‘what?!’. While Kay’s look of dawning realisation softens the furious look on his face that he didn’t work it out sooner. Merlin doesn’t bother to hide his laughter. 

Harry looks unbearably smug, ‘yes, well done, ably deduced. Now if we could get back to the matter at hand?’

They sketch out some basic tactics for the mission and everyone pretends they can’t see Bors tapping away at his phone under the table. 

*

‘How has no one worked out it’s _me_ Harry’s dating,’ says Eggsy lying on Roxy’s living room floor, half a bottle of wine down and most of the way towards sending the latest photo he took of Harry, shirtless, still dripping from the shower, to everyone at Kingsman

The news that the betting pool should now exclude women has spread like wildfire and everyone had revised their bets but Bors wasn’t even offering odds on Eggsy. The only Kingsman staff in the running were a few members of the accountancy team and one frightfully camp chemist in Merlin’s R&D department, despite vocal protestations from all of them. 

‘Because,’ says Roxy, prying his phone out of his hands and tossing it behind the sofa, ‘he is twenty seven years older than you and everyone at Kingsman suffers from a severe and recurring case of snobbery. They will never work it out because it will never occur to them. You could snog Harry in front of the lot of them and they’d still be betting on which lawyer or architect or politician he might be banging.’

‘Secret agent is as good as those things,’ says Eggsy, arms crossed and seriously considering a strop, ‘and please never say banging in reference to Harry again.’

She pokes him in the thigh with her toe, ‘I had to sit next to Merlin in a tiny cockpit while you two were _banging_ over the atlantic for an _hour._ I’ll say what I like.’

Eggsy sticks his tongue out at her and clambers over the sofa to retrieve his phone with as much arse-in-face shimmying as he can manage. All it earns him is a smack and Roxy’s sweaty feet in his face when he sits back down. 

‘Fuck off. Fine. do you think we should just tell people we’re banging?’ 

‘Yes, Eggsy that’s what I've been saying.’

'In front of all of them you reckon?'

'Oh god this is only going to get worse isn't it?' says Roxy, reaching for the wine like it's her last salvation.

*

It’s the day before Christmas Eve, the ballroom at the manor is glittering and everyone is drunk. Really, properly, we got to the end of another year without dying drunk. Guinevere has outdone herself with the decorations and Eggsy has danced with everyone who’s asked and a few who haven’t, namely Merlin, who looks unfairly dashing in his kilt. Everyone except Harry who, every bit the James Bond stereotype in his tux, has politely demurred every time someone has asked him to join them on the dance floor. 

Bors and Bedivere are nowhere to be seen, off on an ill-advised mission to break into Harry’s office for clues, and Percival and Kay are pining sprigs of mistletoe in every area two people might conceivably stand in a misguided attempt to trap Harry into something...revealling. None of it will work because tonight Harry and Eggsy are on a mission. They’ve waited for the sweet spot of inbrietation where their plan will have maximum impact on the assembled crowd and, frankly, Eggsy himself is tipping over into tipsy enough that he really just wants to cart Harry off along the tinsel bedecked hallways to his bedroom. 

Out of the corner of his eye Eggsy spots Roxy corralling Bors and Bedivere back into the ballroom as the soft refrain of _Silent Night_ drifts across the dance floor. It’s time. 

Harry stands up and cuts a path towards Eggsy like he has complete command of the room, everyone falling out of his path easily, eyes turning his way at the sudden, decisive movement. Something like butterflies rise up in Eggsy’s throat, which is ridiculous, but he still swallows heavily when Harry reaches him, holds out his hand. 

‘May I have the pleasure of this dance?’

‘Sure thing, Harry’

Harry draws him up out of his seat and onto the dance floor. His smile is soft, only for them, but Eggsy can’t help but return a full wattage grin, giddy from the martinis he’s been drinking and only dimly aware of the whispering sweeping the room. Their arms go around each other, warm and close, as they begin a slow, easy waltz. The handful of times they’ve ended up in the field are enough to prove that they can move well together, to say nothing of the satisfactory conclusion to many a night in bed, but this is something else. 

‘How long until they’ll get the hint do you reckon?’ murmurs eggsy, close to Harry’s ear.

Harry’s answering chuckle is deep and velvety and Eggsy feels him moving his head to glance around the room, ‘oh, I think they’ve got the message but how about a kiss to seal the deal?’

Eggsy pulls away minutely to look into Harry’s face, his eyes are sparkling, lit with mirth and reflected Christmas lights, he looks gorgeous and Eggsy suddenly doesn’t want to keep this a secret or play this like a game. He wants them all to know, unequivocally, that Eggsy Unwin snapped up the great Harry Hart. All anxieties gone he goes up on his tiptoes and presses a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips.

‘I think we can do better than that, dear boy,’ says Harry as he turns the kiss filthy, a hair’s breadth from dipping Eggsy back like they're on the cover of some trashy romance novel. 

Distantly Eggsy hears Bors saying incredulosly, ‘what the fuck...ow!’, presumably following a sharp elbow in the ribs from Roxy and the spell is broken. 

‘Can we get out of here?’

Harry strokes a thumb across Eggsy’s cheek ‘we’ve made our point I believe.’

*

They hesitate in the doorway of Eggsy’s room at the manor which is ridiculous - everyone knows what they’ve come up here to do. They left the ballroom to resounding silence swallowed up by the din of everyone suddenly talking at once; Bors’ look of incredulous bafflement, Percival and Kay grinning at them stupidly, Merlin with his head in his hands at the sheer brass bollocks on the pair of them.

It felt slightly surreal, floating out of the room, hand in hand with Harry. There was really nowhere to go after that sort of display other than swiftly towards the nearest exit - another quick snog under some precarious mistletoe - and Eggsy knows he’s going to be paying for this in gossip and a serious hangover tomorrow. 

For now, he has Harry, warm and sturdy, at his back, casting an appraising eye over the state of Eggsy’s bedroom - he doesn’t use it often, preferring to stay at his mum’s or the Mews, and left to his own devices he tends to fall back into old habits. 

‘I was gettin’ ready in a rush, alright,’ he says defensively but Harry merely chuckles, hands already over Eggsy’s shoulders to unwind his bowtie, teasing. 

‘Darling, unless you intend to conduct the rest of this evening’s entertainment from the floor I couldn’t care less - and I believe the bed to be a far more comfortable option regardless.’

Eggsy grins, ‘bed it is then.’

This time their kisses are soft, open, not meant for an audience as they move across the room to sink down on to the duvet. Eggsy toes off his shoes and shimmies inelegantly out of his jacket, adrenaline and gin making him giddy and awkward, as Harry follows him up the bed to press him against the headboard. It’s inelegant, euphoria making them fumble, as they wrestle each other out of their clothes and attempt to keep kissing all at once. 

Eggsy ends up flat on his back in nothing but his trousers, Harry above him in only his shirt. He can feel his face heating under Harry’s fond stare, being regarded with such uncomplicated affection is new to Eggsy and he turns his face away and into the pillows, shifting his hips as distraction, an attempt to get them moving again. 

‘None of that, look at me,’ Harry’s hands are firm on his jaw, moving Eggsy as he wishes, titling his face so they have to look at each other, ‘beautiful.’

Eggsy plays up to it, flexes and grins to hide the blush, ‘yeah, you know it.’

‘Oh I do, most certainly,’ Harry won’t be drawn, leans down to kiss Eggsy’s jaw, down his throat and onto his chest. It’s an old tactic, to give him a moment, a pause to gather his thoughts but it only lasts a beat before he’s shifting his hips against Harry once more.

‘Come on, Harry, naked, now.’

Harry laughs again and shifts down the bed to strip Eggsy of his trousers, raising an eyebrow at the conspicuous absence of anything underneath, ‘tart.’

‘Only for you.’

Apparently Harry’s only available response to Eggsy’s cheek is to lick a stripe up Eggsy’s dick and swallow him deep. His mouth is warm and wet, a focused sensation Eggsy could easily get lost in as Harry applies himself to the task but it feels distant and all Eggsy wants right now is closeness. He lets himself enjoy it for a beat, stroking through Harry’s hair, gentle but insistent, until Harry gets the message and looks up at him, mouth wet, lips kiss reddened and more. 

‘Get up here, Harry.’ 

Harry moves, with one last kiss to the tip of Eggsy’s dick, to fold himself into Eggsy’s arms. Feet tangled, pressed together from hip to chest softens the simmering need under Eggsy’s skin, replaced with a sort of intimate calm. They are quiet for a time trading kisses, soft touches, until the movement of their hips gets more urgent and Eggsy realises the low noises of desperation he can hear are coming from him. He gets a hand between their bodies to spread the slick leaking between them and stroke both their pricks in a loose fist. Harry makes a whimpering sound of need, resting their foreheads together, ‘if you keep doing that I won’t be up to much else.’

‘What you gonna do, Harry. You wanna fuck me?’ 

‘I rather thought I’d make love to you.’ 

‘Go on, then.’

Harry rolls them to the edge of the bed to reach into the bedside drawer for lube and Eggsy can’t resist leaning up to press a kiss to Harry’s chin, brush the hair off his forehead, smile at him. 

‘Darling,’ Harry breathes.

Eggsy smirks, ‘babe.’

Harry tuts but he still looks inordinately pleased with himself as he gets them onto their sides in the centre of the bed, his chest pressed against Eggsy’s back, making the most of Eggsy’s flexibility to spread his legs wide and get his questing fingers where he wants them. Eggsy lets himself be manhandled, coddled, his head tipped back on to Harry’s shoulder as Harry strokes between his arse cheeks, two fingers slick and spreading him open. It’s a slow and syrupy escalation of the tension they’ve been riding since they left the ballroom. Harry takes his time with gentle little pulls just inside Eggsy’s body, nowhere near enough to get him anywhere fast but it keeps him on edge, pressing his hips down fitfully in an attempt to get more of what he wants - Harry in him, on him, making love to him as promised. 

Their breathing is ragged, Harry’s mouth open against Eggsy’s shoulder and his dick, hard as an iron bar, pressing a wet spot into the small of Eggsy’s back. 

‘ _Please,_ Harry.’

Harry takes pity on him, or maybe on himself, because his fingers are suddenly gone, replaced by the fat head of his dick, snug against Eggsy’s hole, nudging almost imperceptibly at where Eggsy is soft and wet and open. Eggsy turns his head, pulls Harry’s leg over his hip, feels his eyelashes brushing softly against Harry’s skin as they pause in this suspended moment before Harry pushes forward in one unrelenting stroke. 

The shock of it punches a breath out of him, perfect fullness and the first real touch against his prostate has Eggsy’s prick twitching, his back arching into the circle of Harry’s arms. There is no universe in which they could stay still after that and Harry moves with such surety, unrelenting in his rhythm, winding Eggsy up to a peak of perfect pleasure but never tipping him over it. One hand is splayed strong against Eggsy’s chest, keeping them close, the other at Eggsy’s hip gripping bruises into his skin. 

‘Please touch me,’ Eggsy gasps, not begging yet.

‘I will darling, just wait,’ Harry’s voice is soft, sweet. 

Eggsy shakes his head, desperate, ‘touch me now, touch my cock.’

Harry smiles against his skin, ‘is that what you want? For me to make you come?’

' _Please_ ,' okay, maybe a bit of begging. 

Harry keeps them still, movement slowing almost to a stop as he grinds his dick in Eggsy's arse for what feels like hours. Eggsy braces himself against the bed, clutching at Harry's arms and sinks into the sensation of it, lets it become all encompassing. It might be unbearable but it's exactly what he wants, to feel Harry all around him, holding him close and safe until he finally, _finally_ moves his hand from Eggsy’s hip to stroke his dick in time with the rocking of their hips. The first touch of Harry’s hand to his heated skin is indescribable, pleasure simmering from the defined point between Harry’s dick in his arse and hand on his cock, radiating throughout his body. He writhes in Harry’s grip, insensate and gasping, ‘yes, harry, fuck, don’t stop, _fuck,_ ’ as he comes all over Harry’s hand, his own stomach. 

Harry doesn’t let him go, holding Eggsy’s softening dick gently as he continues to fuck forward, looking for his own release. Eggsy doesn’t know if it’s minutes or hours of Harry rutting into the welcoming clutch of his body, over sensitive but greedy for more, before Harry stills, comes, pressing kisses into Eggsy’s hair. Eggsy doesn’t care. He gives himself over to the sensation, blissed out and pliant as Harry pulls out, brings them back together for gentle kisses and nonsense words that wrap around them into sleep. 

*

The dawn light is pale and cold, filtering through the curtains, as Eggsy rouses to wakefulness. He feels cosy - hangover only a mild annoyance, one that is bound to get worse throughout the day but ignorable, at least for the moment. He keeps his eyes closed, listens to the quiet shuffling of Harry tapping away at his tablet, halfway considering rolling over and demanding another round, he’s still pleasantly achy, feeling well-used and apparently well up for it if his morning hard-on is anything to go by. 

‘Eggsy, darling, are you awake?’ comes Harry’s voice from the other side of the bed. 

There’s no point pretending so he scoots over to plaster himself to Harry’s side, ‘happy Christmas Eve, Harry.’ 

Harry’s answering laugh is conciliatory so Eggsy looks up sharply, eyes narrowed, ‘what now? Has Bors opened up a new round of betting on which one of us takes it up the arse?’ 

‘Not quite,’ Harry tips the tablet towards him, the screen full of schematics he is in no fit state to parse, ‘new mission for you, Galahad. Should take you into the new year at least.’

Eggsy flops back down onto the bed with an exasperated sigh, hand over his face in mock outrage, ‘what the fuck, Harry! Arthur? Can’t you send someone else?’

‘I’m afraid not but at least this way no one can accuse me of giving you preferential treatment.’ 

Eggsy peers out from under his hand, Harry does look genuinely upset, this would have been their first Christmas together. He catches Harry’s hand and laces their fingers together, ‘don’t worry about it. I’ll be back doing paperwork before you know it.’ 

‘Safe and sound, consider that an order,’ says Harry, sternly.

Yes, Arthur,’ says Eggsy, sober and serious, then with a grin and a little wiggle against the bedclothes, his tongue caught between his teeth, ‘is there at least time for you to give me some _preferential treatment_ before I have to head off?’ 

Harry lets his gaze run hot over Eggsy’s body and leans down to kiss him, ‘I would consider it a dereliction of my duty if I didn't.’ 

Eggsy glances at the clock, Christmas Eve or no clearly evil doesn't sleep, 'hold up, haven't you got a meeting this morning?' 

Harry shrugs, 'it can wait. Besides we have to give them something to gossip about.' 


End file.
